


Three, Two, One!

by Mikatchu (TyrantorX)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyrantorX/pseuds/Mikatchu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short stories and drabbles. Purely for characterization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three, Two, One!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bakedpotato413](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedpotato413/gifts).



> Characterizations for my kiddo. I love her to bits and she deserves these things.

The mayor's always been out of line when it comes to constantly reminding of the condition of my workplace. Sure, it was funny at first but she crossed the line when she did it every damn day of the week. Every day, she just complains about the same thing over and over again.

_Emma, you're trash is piling up again._

_How are you even working with so much chaos at your desk._

_Emma, there's a rat in your bin!_

_You're trash is multiplying faster than rodents!_

_Emma, you know it's a sign to clean this place when your desk is where you start to put all your other trash because the bins already full!_

I get it. I'm not the cleanest person on the planet. I have other stuff to do. Much more important than keeping my workplace immaculate. Besides, we've got Dopey cleaning up after me. It's not my fault that he cleans at a slower pace than I could accumulate my garbage throughout the entire week.

She thinks I don't listen but I do. I've tried to keep up with her complaints, I really tried but there's just too much to be done. Storybrooke will never be safe if I'm always going to be stuck in the station cleaning my junk.

I like my desk being the mess that it is. You see, she doesn't understand that I know exactly where everything is. The reports are piled up on top of the filing cabinets beside some of the things I stock up there. The folders are neatly placed underneath my table. And those envelopes—the exact ones she gave me last week—are inside the paper bag that' I've hung on the coat rack. I put them there the moment she walked out the door so that I don't put them anywhere else.

Another thing she doesn't understand is that I lose stuff when I clean things. Yes, I know, I'm a horrible person because I can't help but lose things the moment I put them away. Normal high-functioning human beings remember where they keep them—the reason being that they don't wanna lose it in the first place. For me, it's different case. The moment I keep something, I forget about it and would worry the whole damn day. Similar to a squirrel with its acorns but much worse because cheque books are required to pay crap around this place and not grow trees in untouched parts of the forest.

"Emma!"

"WHAT?!" I screamed. She looked startled at my reply. To make things fair, _she was the one who startled me_ _first_. I was focused on something and she came in and yelled my name. She wasn't even supposed to be here at this time.

"No need to sound so defensive." I wasn't. This was her assuming that I was defensive. Really, I was just as surprised as she was.

"What are you doing here so early in the morning Don't you have tons of other things to do?" I straightened myself, she'd definitely flip if I didn't put my legs down from the table as I faced her. I also tried my best to keep another crumpled piece of paper, I pocketed it as quickly as I could, from her sight—she barged in while I was about to let go of possibly one of the best angled shots of my trash bin basketball career.

"There are a few things that I need to ru—" She paused and peered over to the cells beyond my desk. _Oh no_ , she'd seen it and she didn't look too impressed. "Emma Swan." The tone of her voice couldn't get any disappointing.

"Yes?" Trying to look innocent was never a talent of mine, but for this particular moment, I hoped to the high heavens that my expression would work for her.

"Why is the trash bin lodged in the corner of the prison cell?" She asked out very sternly, not hesitating to go into the cell and check out my master plan—to throw a paper ball through the bars and into the bin tucked neatly onto the leftmost portion of the cell near the bunk bed from my desk.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She didn't buy it obviously. And honestly, _I_ didn't buy it either. Shit, I was sure I'd sound a lot more convincing because I've been practicing. Note to self, it needs a little more time.

"Of course you do." Well, maybe I shouldn't have tried to play innocent. The floor of the cell had a dozen crumpled paper balls littered throughout it. There's even one that landed on the other cell's floor. That was the first shot I took and I overestimated a little too much. I've gotten better though because most of the balls are centered around the area where the bin was placed—that I'm particularly proud of by the way.  
  
"Emma Swan..."

I had to interrupt her before she ruined my morning and everyone else's. Apparently I'm the leading cause of agitation in Storybrooke because I'm the one that sends Regina in a flurry of anger in the morning and everyone tends to suffer from her anger throughout the day. "I get it. I get it. I'll clean it up." I groaned because I don't like tidying things up. But for the sake of Storybrooke, I'll step up this once.

"I forgot the reason I came here." She shook her head. "I'll be back in an hour and I expect a clean station." And with that she left.

Damn it. Damn. Fucking. It.

Now my days was ruined. I got up and started to pick up the trash on the floor. All of this went into the bin, which I dislodged from the corner and tucked it away as  _neatly and as angrily as I could_  underneath my desk.

Made sure to check everything in the office so that I didn’t miss anything else out of line. The envelopes were still on the post. The piles of papers were still neatly stacked. The folders were also tucked away in a tidy manner.

"Well, now that's a pretty clean station if you asked me." I checked the drawers for the keys to my patrol car. Might as well go out on a drive to see if there’s some sort of crime anywhere else that needs a little sweeping cause this station looked pretty damn tidy to me.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


End file.
